


Swept Away

by orphan_account



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 05:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4291860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He sits in the passenger seat of the rickety truck. Eyes straight ahead, plucking at the unfamiliar sleeves of his jacket in irritation and trying desperately not to stare at the Lieutenant as she wrenches the manual transmission into gear and works the clutch in her tiny, scandalously short denim ‘shorts’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swept Away

Everything about this was ridiculous. Absolutely absurd, everything from the cheap baseball cap on his head, down to the idiotic ‘cowboy’ boots on his feet. Ichabod was counting down the minutes until they would return to Sleepy Hollow and be rid of the godforsaken Virginia backwoods for good.

He sits in the passenger seat of the rickety truck. Eyes straight ahead, plucking at the unfamiliar sleeves of his jacket in irritation and trying desperately not to stare at the Lieutenant as she wrenches the manual transmission into gear and works the clutch in her tiny, scandalously short denim ‘shorts’. But another lurching heave of the old automobile sends his gaze scrambling to her face as she curses and bites her lip. He sits transfixed yet again at the sight of her muscles working beneath the soft glowing skin of her thighs, her bared midriff tensing, her breasts bouncing with the shake and jostle of the vehicle barreling down the gravel road.

She notices him staring, smirks in exasperation and returns her eyes to the road.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it explodes on us honestly.”

Ichabod feels his eyebrows lift, and discreetly angles his hips towards the door. Wait, no she meant the truck. Of course she meant the truck.

He waits until she is distracted by yet another pothole and adjusts himself before speaking, feigning his best American accent.

“Perhaps, it’s best if we return to the motel until we can acquire better transportation.”

She smiles but shakes her head.

“We could drink cold tea from mason jars, and watch Naasscar. I might even let you make me sandwich.” he says, voice dripping with disdain but he is half serious. There was nothing more he would like to do than turn the truck around; anything to save him from the increasingly uncomfortable prospect of a night watching Abbie philandering with greasy, groping men as they attempted to infiltrate the local militia group.

Abbie turned and caught his eye, her smile even brighter than before.

“You can drink your tea and watch Nascar at the bar” she said teasing, and then with her eyes flitting back to the road, her voice drops. “And I’m not even gonna warrant that last bit with a response.”

Ichabod hmphs and directs his gaze back out the window, pulling at his ridiculous cap, trying to distract himself from the way her smile had affected him just as thoroughly as her barely adequate clothing.

“Remind me again why we allowed you sister to arrange all this.” he says shedding the accent entirely and scowling.

Abbie laughs, warmly this time, and Ichabod can’t help but smile slightly in return.

“I keep imagining Jenny on a beach in Mexico, her piece of the rune already safely tucked away, sipping piña coladas and cackling.”

The playful bright tones of her voice hold their own allure and Ichabod helplessly risks a glance at her once more only to see her shift in her seat, her back arching elegantly off the sticky cracked vinyl. He sucks in a shaky breath, his fingers fisting in his lap, and fittingly the truck chooses that very moment to crack and rattle ominously.

Ichabod leans in, peering over Abbie to see the engine light flash on and then pathetically flicker out entirely.

“Miss Mills?” he asks.

But she is already cursing, her hands tapping at the steering wheel. Smoke starts billowing from the hood and Ichabod worries the wretched thing might actually explode after all.

“No. No god damnit. Why is this happening?”Abbie groans even as she directs the slowing truck over to the side of the road. It finally rolls to a stop in the grass and Abbie yanks on the parking brake, pulls the keys from the ignition and then sags in her seat, pressing her fingers to her temples.

Ichabod quickly slides across the bench seat, reaching across Abbie to open the door, pressing his body insistently into her side. She shoots him a look but hops outs and he follows, leading her by the arm as he puts a bit of distance between them and the noxious fumes of the still smoking truck.

Moments later Abbie has whipped out her cell phone and Ichabod takes the time to do a quick study of their surroundings.

There's nothing but trees on either side of a seemingly little-used gravel road. The militia’s compound and the small bar that accompanied it is truly out in the ‘middle of nowhere’ and they likely would have spent another half hour driving before reaching it. The last town was probably a good two hours walk back and nightfall was fast approaching. It did seem that their plans for the night were canceled and despite the frustrating predicament of being stranded in the woods, Ichabod feels his spirits lift a bit.

Abbie apparently felt no such relief. Her lips are pursed and brows drawn as she shoves her cell phone back into the back pocket of her shorts.

Ichabod catches her eye and she shakes her head.

“No service.” she says darkly.

“If we start walking now we can make it into town before the hour is too late.”

Abbie nods, her mind clearly elsewhere, and starts walking back towards the truck which Ichabod notes has thankfully quit spitting out smoke.

“At the very least we might get closer to a cellular tower.” he continues, and follows after her.

He waits by the driver’s side door as Abbie inexplicably stands on her tip toes and peers down into the truck bed.

“Aha!” she exclaims and jumps up until she is precariously balanced on the side of truck. Ichabod reaches out, places a hand on her hip to steady her, his thumb burning where it brushes against the warm bare skin of her belly.

“What in god’s name are you doing?”

“There’s a tool box back here.” she says, audibly dragging something metal across the truck bed and then hopping down from her perch. She reaches in to pull it out, but Ichabod realizing the metal box is almost half her size, scoffs down at her and retrieves it himself.

She looks up at him, her gaze sharp, and hold outs her hand expectantly. Ichabod can feel the air around them spark and prick. He tenses, building himself up for the quarrel he can already see coming, one he is no doubt going to start. But he screws up his mouth and hands her the tool box all the same.

“You can fix it?” he asks and spins on his heel as she hauls the tool box past him back towards the front of the truck.

“Maybe” she says, popping the hood and propping it up. “I played around enough with the old clunker that got me through college to learn a thing or two.”

He stalks past her, paces the length of the road, his back straight and hands twitching behind his back. He knows that if she were successful, she would wish to continue on to the compound. But he is certain that if he could just stall her for one night, he could convince her of another course of action. He pauses, angles himself so that he is peering at her over the collar of the stiff brown work jacket Miss Jenny had packed for him. She’s pulled out a wrench and is currently considering a mess of pipes and machinery Ichabod can’t even begin to comprehend.

“I don’t wish to press the matter Lieutenant.” He can feel his jaw clench as Abbie glances back at him with a furtive eye roll. “But the longer we tarry here the longer we will be walking in the dark.”

“And the longer you distract me, the longer we are deprived of our only chance of actually driving back into town.” Abbie shoots back at him her tone cool and level. “Not to mention, maybe finishing what we set out to do in the first place and then getting the hell out of dodge.”

“Wouldn’t you prefer finding reception while our phones still have power?”

Abbie puts a foot on the bumper in order to get better view of the engine and the late evening sun casts golden light and long shadows across her form. Her hair falls in curls down her back, her legs shapely and impossibly long given her stature, her cropped loose t-shirt exposing the smooth skin at the small of her back. The sight sets Ichabod’s teeth on edge.

“I want this truck to work, Crane.” She calls back at him. Ichabod opens his mouth to protest but she is already cutting him off. “Turn off your if phone if you are so worried.”

And then she bends over, the wrench finding purpose on a bolt, hostilely tightening it. Ichabod watches her hips rock with each pump, the cut of her shorts riding up and doing nothing to conceal the generous plump curve of her backside as it bounces. His mouths goes slack and dry. Color burns in his cheeks; his cock aches in his trousers. He wants to set the thick file of the militia leader’s internet search queries alight. He wants to march her down the the road and force her into the nearest set of trousers. He desperately wants to bury his nose in her hair and his cock inside her.

“Lieutenant stop!”

Abbie’s shoulders tense but she doesn’t step down from the bumper, doesn’t turn around, doesn’t still. Something akin to desperation wrests itself loose in Ichabod’s chest and propels him forward.

“Leftenant, I insist -“ His hand reaches out on its own accord, loosely gripping her upper arm, intending only to get her attention but she jerks away at his touch.

“Crane, I swear to -“ She spins around, points a sharp finger into his chest, and she loses her footing just as suddenly, careening backwards towards the open hood.

Eyes wide, Ichabod reaches out, quickly wrapping her in his arms and stopping her fall, and then pulling her away from the truck for good measure.

“Good God Abbie, could you please refrain from climbing on things.”

“Crane?” she responds, her voice muffled in his shoulder and oddly strained. Ichabod realizes she is still clasped tightly to him, her lush curves pressed flush against him, her feet not quite touching the ground, the warmth of her thigh resting against the still hard length of him.

He freezes. Shock and fear near overwhelming him. He should set her down, step away, and give voice to the apologies already spinning in his head but he cannot. Because now she knows, maybe not the whole wretched truth of it but enough. She’ll run and he’s not ready to face it.

“Crane.” she repeats and moves against him. His arms go slack and he feels every bit of her as she slides down him. He is fully unable to contain the shudder her body elicits and he finally moves away, shame lancing through him.

But Abbie’s fingers are in the lapels of his coat, stopping him, keeping him close. His eyes dart to her face, watching captivated as her dark eyes search his own, as her lips part. She is so soft and open before him, that he knows if he were just a little less in love with her, he would kiss her.

He would kiss her and hold her and take her right here along the side of this dusty road, he would — and if he were just a little less in love with her, they might even survive it.

Abbie finally looks away, tossing the wrench back towards the tool box with a sigh and stepping to the side.

“Just give me a minute to get my stuff and we can start walking back.”

“Leftenant, wait. I must apologize —”

“Don’t Crane. No harm done.” she says her hands in the air between them, a familiar guarded smile firmly in place as she backs away from him.

She turns and Ichabod watches her shoulders slump slightly, and it is enough to make his stomach sink. The thought strikes him that maybe he has already 'fucked everything sideways'. Something in her posture, something in how she is holding herself sends signals firing in his gut. It is as if he can see the walls around her building brick by brick, shutting him out with sudden grim finality.

There was nothing right about this, here in this odd place, they in stranger’s clothes, and sniping at each other. Nothing that he would have chosen but he realizes with dawning certainty it very well might be his one and only chance.

He screws his eyes shut, takes one deep breath, readying himself as he used to before battle and charges into the the fray. She might break his heart but he will not surrender without a fight.

He catches her just as she is yanking open the door to the truck and reaches outs to to shut it just as abruptly, his mind near blank with resolve. She turns to face him, reprimand in her eyes and pursing her pretty lips but he cups her face in his hands and kisses her before she even can give it voice.

And it’s as if the world cracks in half.

Somehow in all his trepidation, in all his love sick devotion, he had still underestimated this because Abbie’s mouth belongs on his, her body belongs in his hands. Her fingers and hips and sighs are a deafening roar of thunder rolling through him. Her skin against his own shakes him to the core.

It isn’t until he has her pinned against the door, her legs wrapped around his waist that awareness returns to him. He pulls away from the oasis of her mouth suddenly desperately aware that he has overstepped, but Abbie’s is laid bare in his arms, her pupils blown wide, her face the perfect picture of desire and Ichabod’s cock throbs at the sight.

“Don’t stop,” she breathes.

“Oh, Abbie.”

He takes her lips again, tasting this time, reverently and quietly thanking the gods. Abbie sighs against him, and kisses him just as softy. Ichabod is caught helplessly in the tender ache of it and for the first time he dares to hope there is more to her actions than mere desire or familiarity amongst friends. And it's that hope that spurs him recklessly forward, his want for her suddenly relentless as he deepens the kiss.

Abbie seems to welcome the change of pace, moaning and rocking against his hips. Ichabod can feel the heat of her against him and growls as tension rockets through him. He frees himself from her mouth and straightens, pressing her harder against the door, moving his hands to palm her breasts. Abbie bites her lip and arches up into his palms and Ichabod is lost.

“Abbie, are we -”

“Yes. Yes, hurry.”

He moans, hungrily slipping his hands under her top, grasping at the smooth skin at her waist and back before pulling the shirt off her. He drinks in the sight of her. Her lips are swollen and eyelashes fluttering. Her round full breasts are almost escaping the little scrap of lace making up her undergarment with each breath. He presses a kiss to her forehead as he leans in and reaches a hand up to cup her breast, teasing a taught nipple though the lace.

“You are so beautiful. It’s unreal.”

He presses another kiss into her hair and quickly moves his hands to her back again, removing her bra and throwing it aside. His mind stutters to a stop as he grabs her arse, hoisting her up above him and taking a nipple into his mouth.

Abbie gasps and writhes under his mouth, her fingers twisting in his hair as he sucks and nips at her. Ichabod can feel the decadent curve of her backside so soft and full in his hands.

“Fuck”, he murmurs against her as he mouths the underside of her breast, “ you are so perfect.”

He had fantasized about this for longer than he could remember and it barely registers when he slips his hands inside her shorts clenching and grasping for every inch of of skin, until his fingers run against the soft slick heat of her cleft.

Abbie gasps out his name above him pleading for more and Ichabod, unable to take another moment of her clothed, pulls away from the truck. He carries her a few paces, and drops her down into the grass.

He kneels beside her, his fingers quickly unbuttoning her shorts, kissing her as he tugs at the fabric. Abbie toes off her shoes and then lifts up as Ichabod strips her of her shorts and panties. Abbie turns to him, her hands helping him shrug off his work coat and pulling his shirt over his head. She laughs softly when the baseball cap comes off too.

“Ridiculous thing,” Ichabod says tossing it into the woods and goes in for another kiss thrilling at the press of her skin against his own.

Her hands roam his chest, her nails lightly scraping past the jumping muscles in his abdomen to rest at the waist of his pants but he stops her, kissing his way down her body until he settles between her legs. She sighs contentedly and Ichabod can’t resist arching an eyebrow.

“Surprised?”

“Not at all, just happy,” she grins, and then her smiles turns sultry. “You look good down there.”

Ichabod’s cock twitches and grows impossibly harder. “You will regret that, coquette.”

“Somehow I doubt it - oh god.”

He bends and takes her in his mouth, relentlessly stroking her bud with his tongue. Abbie arches her back her hips lifting and rocking against him and Ichabod swells. She tastes divine. Abbie moans again her hands moving from his hair to her breasts and Ichabod slips a finger inside her wet cunt thrusting and curling just so, pausing to watch her writhe and whimper as she pinches at her nipples and rocks hard onto his hand.

“Crane please. Please.. so close.”

He pulls out of her, his fingers dripping with her arousal and in a moment of deviant inspiration slides his finger down to the tight pucker between her cheeks.

“Oh.” she gasps out.

“Surprised now?”

“Yes. Oh god, yes.”

He pushes a finger into her, heat coiling tight in his belly at the sensation, and returns his mouth to devouring cunt. Ichabod can barely contain the burning need to be inside her and moves to palm himself, but along with Abbie’s fingers tugging painfully at his hair it is almost enough to send him spilling into his jeans. He growls against her and moves his hand to her hips, holding her down until she yields entirely to him, her legs spread and trembling.

Ichabod waits until she is on the very edge to pull out slowly and she comes hard and quick, screaming out his name. He laps at her wishing to draw out the waves of pleasure rolling through her, loving the heady taste of her, and the shudders wracking her small frame. Despite his aching cock, he commits himself to keeping Abbie coming until she cuts him off, running soothing fingers through his hair and then pulling him up for a kiss.

He clutches her to him, kissing her deeply, and greedily running his hands down her body. Abbie is soon matching his fervor, her hand stroking him through his trousers. Ichabod worries again that this will end all too quickly but then Abbie does a keen little move that has him suddenly sprawling on his back. She hovers above him, lithe and gorgeous and looking all the world like she was a moment away from devouring him completely and god wounds he had never in his long absurd life felt so wanted. He would gladly offer up every bit of his being to please her; would lay himself out like a lamb, hers for the taking, her’s entirely.

She traps his hands with her knees and grinds down onto his cock. He can feel her wet and hot through the fabric of his trousers and struggles weakly, his whole body ready, yearning to come but Abbie doesn’t let up.

“That was mean.”

“You like it when I’m mean.”

Abbie smiles down at him and Ichabod thrusts up, his breath hitching as she rides him.

“The question is do you like it when I am?”

Ichabod hisses. Abbie grins. Her fingers moving finally to unbutton his pants, tugging them down just enough to pull out his cock. Ichabod is close to panting as she strokes him.

“Please, Abbie.”

“Hmm?” she says as she runs her thumb across his head.

“Ugh, I want to be inside you Abbie please.”

He is thrusting helplessly in her hand, but Abbie takes mercy on him. She releases his hands and one immediately goes to her thigh, the other curling into the grass.

Abbie bites her lip and then she is sliding down his cock, her cunt so wet and tight Ichabod shudders. She feels so good, so warm, so right.

Gone suddenly is all their teasing. There is nothing playful in Abbie’s gaze as she rocks against him and Ichabod is on fire, wanting this to last forever.

He takes her hand and draws it to his mouth, kissing the pads of her fingers. Abbie trembles above him, her eyes bright. Ichabod can feel the words on his tongue, echoing the longing in his heart and on the verge of tumbling out recklessly, threatening all they had built together. He cannot drag his eyes away from her but he fears he can’t stay his tongue either, so he sucks her fingers into his mouth praying it will be enough.

Abbie gasps her eyes dropping to his lips, her fingers curling in his mouth, her thumb running along his jaw and Ichabod finally loses himself, his hand clenching at her hip as he thrusts hard chasing his release. Abbie moans and follows him down, her fingers working her clit.

He spills into her, moaning breathlessly and completely undone. He can still feel the heat lingering in his chest when Abbie lies limp across him, her brow tucked into his neck, her breath tickling his shoulder. He pulls his arms around her, unnerved at her quiet. He had always imagined that should this happen, she would be skittish as a newborn colt afterwards, quick to run.

But here she was, draped across him as if she would rest there forever. Yet he couldn’t dare to let himself hope. He feels his throat tighten, and runs a hand down her back trying to sooth away the ache. It’s almost cruel how close she is, bittersweet that she is still in his arms.

He feels her stir, turning to gaze out into the distance.

“It’s lovely isn’t it?”

Ichabod pulls himself away from the dark depths of his thoughts and notices that yes, it was lovely. The sun had set and in the gloaming fireflies had taken to the air, moving about in twinkling clouds around them. The night sky was clear, scattered with stars he hadn’t seen since his own time. The scent of honeysuckle hung sweet in the cool night air and the bush crickets sang out their music as if to them lull to them into slumber. It was tranquil, beautiful and Ichabod knew with striking clarity that this moment, with the entire world humming in thrall, with Abbie at peace in his arms, would be one revisited in his darkest hours. Come what may this moment was a gift.

They stayed like that for a long time, Abbie seemingly happy in the quiet and he content not to disturb her. She does eventually pull away, yawning and stretching like a cat. Ichabod can’t help but find it adorable and pointedly looks away lest she catch him doting.

Ichabod reaches for his shirt but stills as Abbie closes her hand around his own.

“I’m little shocked.” she says, and Ichabod thinks that is fair at least. “It’s not like you to go without talking for this long.”

Ichabod smiles, “What would you have me talk about?”

Abbie raises her eyebrows and Ichabod lets his eyes drop to her lips, her naked bosom.

“You are stunning in the starlight,” he says and bends down to kiss her but she swats at his chest.

“Wait, I’m serious, Casanova. Don’t you want to know…” she pauses, looking a bit lost and then throwing her hands in the air, “what this is?”

And this is what he had been dreading, here at last, definitions, ground rules, boundaries. All the tools she would use to keep him at arms length. He swallows hard, looks away, not really prepared to hear it even now. Beside him Abbie sighs and leans into his side.

“What is this to you, Ichabod?”

“Whatever you wish it you to be.” he says, and knows the moment he speaks it to be true.

Ichabod feels her nod against his shoulder and it feels small. She suddenly feels so very small that he can’t help but wrap her in his arms again and tuck her head under his chin.

“And you, Abbie? What is this to you?”

“One last adventure into the great unknown.”

Ichabod would have laughed if he weren’t so grateful, so overwhelmed with hope.

“Last?” he asks, swallowing past the ache swelling in his throat.

She pulls away and catches his gaze, her eyes shining.

“Yeah” she says. “And with someone very dear to me.”

“Thank you” he says, pouring all his love into those two words, his hands cupping her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. She smiles up at him, presses a quick kiss to his lips, then pulls away to grab his shirt and toss it towards him.

“We should really get dressed. The side of road thing isn’t exactly the height of modesty.”

Ichabod does laugh then and helps her find her clothes, strewn about as they were. Once they are finally dressed Abbie strolls back to the front of vehicle only to pick up the wrench once again and renew her consideration of the engine.

“Of all the stubborn..” Ichabod mutters under his breath and stalks towards her.

Of course she is perched just as precariously as she was before but Ichabod quickly finds his ire dwindling in the face of her derriere yet again deliciously exposed in those wicked shorts of hers. He lets his fingers trail up her thighs and then pinches at her glorious curves.

Abbie cries out, offended and gaping in shock. Ichabod smirks back happily.

“I can’t believe it. You were a closet pervert this whole time.”

Ichabod ‘hmms’ and smacks her arse for good measure.

Abbie straightens, frowning.

“You” she says, pointing to the side of the truck. ‘Over here. Now.”

She hands him her phone the flashlight app already turned on.

“Here. Hold this so I have some light.”

Ichabod sulks but does as she says. Still, he can’t quiet his discomfort entirely.

“Surely you aren’t still entertaining continuing on to the tavern.”

Abbie sighs but continues on with her work.

“No, not tonight. In honor of the new thing that we have going on between us, I will give you exactly as long as it takes the mechanic to fix this truck to figure out another plan. But Crane, you are gonna have to get use to things like this. It is kinda my job.”

“Fair enough,” he says, mostly pleased.

A few false starts and a roll of duck tape later and the truck is mostly back to its old self though Abbie is confident it won’t last. She spends most of the ride back anxiously watching for the engine light to flare up. Ichabod calls a twenty four hour repair shop as soon as he has service and things are mostly settled by the time they get back in town.

It is rather late when they find themselves in the hallway outside their rooms. They are both uncharacteristically shy and Ichabod is unsure what do with his hands, unsure if he should offer her his company, if he should even kiss her goodnight. Abbie seems similarly at a loss until she shakes her head and twines her fingers through his.

“I’m not ready to say goodnight.”

“Neither am I” he says, something like joy settling warmly in his chest.

“Come to bed with me?”

“Always.”

Abbie giggles and stands on her tip toes to kiss his chin and Ichabod finds himself laughing too as he hoists her into his arms, hands full yet again with her backside. Abbie slings her arms round his neck kissing him properly.

“Insatiable,” she says against his lips, feigning concern.

Ichabod drops the key in the door, and kicks it open.

“Only for you.” he says, carrying her into the room and shutting the door firmly behind them.

~~~~~~~~~

Abbie wears honeysuckle in her hair at their wedding.

The ceremony is small, rushed, entirely unofficial actually.

In a brief moment of peace in the storm of their last years as witnesses, Abbie decides it is what she wants. So Abbie and Jenny hung several strings of lights in the trees outside the cabin. In a rush of sentiment Abbie chose a white dress and then Jenny had braided the flowers into her curls, her sister tearing up and kissing her forehead once she was done.

Jenny walks with her, hand in hand, leading her to the trees. The night is cool and above her the stars are shining. The air is resplendent with the sound of katydids singing in the brush. Just like that first night, she feels the world in all its glory settle deep into her bones. She does not feel alone.

Ichabod waits under the lights, his hands shaking. His eyes tearing up the moment he sees her, his face alight with a smile even now she rarely sees.

Jenny lets go of her hand standing a bit to the side as she waves Abbie forward and as Abbie reaches Ichabod’s side he takes her hands in his, pressing gentle kisses to her fingers.

Abbie smiles. Around them the world glitters and sings out its blessing. A great joy within her sings along.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They jump over the broom and the past is swept away.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a mostly innocent prompt from darla months and months ago. sorry it took forever. And so many thanks to nerdy for the after-the-fact beta. you are a life saver.


End file.
